<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Promises by QueenOfNewOrleans22</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27870653">Promises</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfNewOrleans22/pseuds/QueenOfNewOrleans22'>QueenOfNewOrleans22</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Guns N' Roses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:47:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,686</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27870653</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfNewOrleans22/pseuds/QueenOfNewOrleans22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>For some reason, it was snowing. </p><p>It never snowed in Indiana, much less in Lafayette, where the sun shone too brightly and it always felt like Hell was one step away from taking over. It only ever snowed every few Decembers, when the odd Holiday rolled around and reared its ugly head, wreaking chaos wherever it went. </p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Axl Rose/Izzy Stradlin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Promises</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>For some reason, it was snowing. </p><p>It never snowed in Indiana, much less in Lafayette, where the sun shone too brightly and it always felt like Hell was one step away from taking over. It only ever snowed every few Decembers, when the odd Holiday rolled around and reared its ugly head, wreaking chaos wherever it went. </p><p>Bill was dressed like a vagabond, in a jacket was too small, with water seeping into his boots and drenching his socks. His lip is split. This is no new occurrence for anybody in Indiana, much less Bill, but this time, he had hit back, and knocked the old man in his head before his mother had screamed bloody murder and threatened to call the cops. Bill wasn't afraid of them, but didn't want that on his record, so he had instead grabbed his jacket and stormed out into an unexpectedly snowy wonderland, except there was more dirt than snow, and it smelt like manure. </p><p>There was never anywhere to go, except for the fields that lay in the distance, near where the abandoned train tracks had been laid down and forgotten all about, just like all of the people in the godforsaken little town that Bill had been born in and left to rot, except he wouldn't stay here unless he was knocked into a coma, or some shit like that. </p><p>For the first time in a while, there were a few kids playing around, rolling chunks of snow into men, tossing snowballs around, laughing and yelling and having a good ol' time. Bill walked past them, hands in his pockets, until he came across some kid from school, a senior with dark eyes and a lisp. </p><p>"Have you seen Isbell?" Bill asked, his voice hoarse from all of the yelling that he'd done earlier, courtesy of his step-father and the several profanities that'd been hurled his way. The old bastard had deserved it, much more than any other time had called for. </p><p>The kid looked up, eyes bleary from whatever poison he'd been taking. "Hmmm?"</p><p>Bill scowled at the typical response, biting his tongue at the harsh initial response that'd threatened to come out in response. "Isbell." He repeated, feeling like a parrot, imitating whatever words had come previous. "Jeffrey?" Bill huffed out a sigh when his inquiry only garnered a confused, dazed look. </p><p>"Um..." The kid looked up at the bright blue sky, dotted with unfamiliar clouds that seemed much bigger than usual. He looked much older than his actual age, a fact that was further supported by the stubble that was forming around his lips. "I don't know 'im." He finally said. </p><p>That was a lie if Bill had ever heard one, because he knew full and well that this motherfucker had bullied Jeffrey on several occasions for several things that ranged from his shyness to his appearance. Bill wished he could've talked about how hypocritical that was, because none of the bullies succeeded in the personalitiy nor looks department, but didn't, because he had bigger and better things on his mind. "<em>Yes." </em>He hissed through gritted teeth, feeling his temper flare up, like a rattlesnake rearing to strike. "Jeffrey Isbell. Tall, skinny?" </p><p>The kid frowned, and then his bottom lip slipped out into a childlike pout as he thought. "<em>Ooohhh." </em>He finally said. "The weird one?" </p><p>'<em>You're not one to talk, asshole.' </em>Bill thought, but he bit his tongue hard in warning against the insult. "Yeah." He sighed. </p><p>"He's over in the fields." The kid jolted his thumb over his shoulder, toward the train tracks, near a bridge. "Probably considering life or some weird hippie shit."</p><p>Bill looked at him for a moment, considering his thoughts. "Thanks." He grumbled after a moment in thought, keeping quiet on an insult in favor of walking away and bending down hurriedly, so quick that anybody else would've thought that he was tying his shoes, but, in reality, his fingers were closed over the kid's car keys.</p><p>Guilt be damned to any and all Hell - Bill tossed the car keys once he'd closed enough distance between him and the kids, hearing them thump pitifully in the distance amongst piles of snow and grass. The kid was too stoned to put the pieces together, anyways. He would forget all about his and Bill's encounter soon enough, anyways. </p><p>In the distance, there were mountains, and in the looming area, Jeffrey was a lone shadow. His head was tilted down, black hair shadowing his face, hands holding something shiny that glinted in the sunlight. </p><p>Bill's boots crunched over snow and ice, nearly slipping when he hit a particularly large chunk. He narrowly caught himself, his scowl deepening as he continued his lengthy trek across the field, where they usually spent much of their time, finding solace in each other, if only slightly. </p><p>"Hey." Bill called out when he got close enough, slightly out of breathe after his struggle with the slippery ice. He shook his hair out of his face, his scowl morphing into a frown. "What are you doing out here, all alone?" </p><p>It was a dumb question, because Jeffrey always seemed to be alone. </p><p>"Thinking." Jeffrey lifted a previously unseen cigarette and inhaled, looking like some sort of wannabe James Dean, with his dark hair, haunted eyes and almost perpetual frown. "You?" </p><p>"Well, I'm trying to find you!" Bill came to a stop a few feet away, and looked out towards the mountains, where his friend's gaze was directed. There were nothing but pale clouds in the sky, and heavy tension lingering in the air, as it always did. </p><p>Jeffrey exhaled. "Well, you found me." He looked back down, as if desperate to avoid eye contact, perhaps out of fear, or maybe out of shyness. </p><p>"What's that supposed to mean?" Bill could hear the undercurrent, the emphasis. </p><p>"It means that you found me." Jeffrey repeated. </p><p>There was something wrong - it was so noticeable that it was a wonder that they both hadn't died from it. Bill frowned, suddenly suspicious, and ignoring the sting from the cut on his lip. He could still hear the kids laughing behind them, enjoying snow that would rarely come. "Are you okay?" He asked, dreadfully aware of how harsh his voice sounded, and making an effort to fix it. Bill cleared his throat, knowing that, for some reason, Jeffrey was afraid, and that meant it was Bill's job to make him feel comfortable again. "You're acting weird." </p><p>Jeffrey made a noise from the back of his throat that sounded desperate. "I don't know what you're talking about." He said in a thin tone. </p><p>And Bill didn't mean to, not really, but the words were so weak, the lie so obvious, that he laughed, a rueful noise that made Jeffrey's eyes rise up in shock, or perhaps anger, betrayal evident. </p><p>"Sorry." Bill muttered. </p><p>Jeffrey backed away. "I'm gonna go." He said, turning around and beginning to walk away, his back hunched, looking so very dejected. </p><p>"No, wait." Bill hurriedly reached foward, desperate not to let him leave, remorseful for his premature laughter. Jeffrey's arm was bony, and it was startlingly easy for Bill to fit his fingers around and pull Jeffrey back. </p><p>"Lemme' go." Jeffrey said, but there was no fight in his voice, only a dull hopelessness that sounded - <em>wrong. </em></p><p>Bill shook his head. "No, just tell me what's wrong. I came all the way here to talk to you, and I'm not gonna go back until I get a real answer about what's going on with you." He said firmly. </p><p>"There's <em>nothing </em>wrong." Jeffrey hissed, but there was a cold desperation that seemed to twist his words and say otherwise. </p><p>"Oh, give me a break." Bill rolled his eyes. "You're just not acting like yourself, and it's starting to really - " <em>Worry </em>"-irritate me." </p><p>Jeffrey's lips twisted into a snarl. "Well, I'm sorry to irritate you so much." </p><p>"Jesus Christ, you moron." Bill pulled Jeffrey backwards, hard enough that he was wrenched back and fell into Bill's arms like some sort of damsel in distress who was glaring venemously. "Just tell me. I won't judge." </p><p>"Yes, you will." Jeffrey insisted. </p><p>"<em>Noo-ooo, </em>I won't." Bill was even more stubborn. </p><p>Jeffrey hesitated, and then he sighed. "I'm scared." He mumbled, some of the tension leaking from his body alongside the confession. </p><p>"Of what?" Bill asked, but he knew - oh, how he knew. </p><p>There wasn't a lot of things that Jeffrey was afraid of - so afraid of, anyways, that he would be bothered by it, but if there was one thing that made him shiver in fear was other people. </p><p>"What if they find out?" Jeffrey glanced behind them for emphasis. "What might happen to you when I leave?" He paused. "What's gonna happen to <em>me </em>when I leave?" </p><p>"You'll be fine." Bill said. </p><p>Jeffrey stared at him. </p><p>"<em>And </em>I'll be fine." Bill rolled his eyes, gently pushing his friend back up so that he could stand up straight. </p><p>The desperation was palpable in Jeffrey's eyes. "Why can't we both just leave together?" He asked. </p><p>Bill winced in apology. "I just have a few loose ends to tie up first." He said. </p><p>"I don't wanna leave you here." Jeffrey gazed out toward the kids, his eyes lingering, as if fearing that they would do something. "Maybe they know, and they just don't want - " </p><p>"Enough talking about this!" Bill had always had a commanding presence, and as soon as he opened his mouth, Jeffrey shut his own with an audible snap, startled into silence. Bill hated it. "Just - calm down, okay? I'll meet you there, but there's some things I gotta do first. All you worry about is getting to LA and getting stable, I'll figure out the rest." </p><p>Jeffrey sighed. "Okay." He mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm trusting you with this, Billy." </p><p>The words seemed, in a way, fateful. </p><p>"And you won't regret it." Bill hoped that it sounded like a promise, and he hoped that, when he reached out and grasped Jeffrey's hand so gently, so desperately, that it felt like one, too. </p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>